


O Christmas T(h)ree

by nikkiRA



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, On the third day of Christmas my asshole friends gave to me, Sam Wilson is So Done, and a really bad headache, three christmas trees, two twerking corgis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: Join the Avengers, Steve had said. It’ll be fun, Steve had said. My boyfriend will be setting up a ten foot tall Christmas tree in your living room because our ceilings aren’t high enough, Steve had conveniently not said.





	O Christmas T(h)ree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stevergrsno (noxlunate)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlunate/gifts).



> this is my marvel holiday swap gift for stevergrsno! We got each other how adorable. As you know I have been complaining about the word count for this so I'm sorry but I am proud to say this is 2004 words so success. 
> 
> this fic requires the slightest suspension of disbelief, we're going to pretend Sam has fifteen foot ceilings okay? okay
> 
> The biggest of thanks to my own Christmas angels, my own hugging bears, my own twerking corgis Sen and Taja for last minute beta.

“And where exactly are you planning on putting that?” Sam said, incredulous, as Bucky and Clint tried to wrestle a gigantic tree through the doorway. It had to have been over 10 feet tall and looked like it belonged in Central Park. Sam had a sudden, horrifying fear that it actually _was_ from Central Park.

Bucky and Clint seemed to be competing for who could wear the gaudiest Christmas-fied outfit. Both of them were wearing creatively ugly Avengers themed holiday sweaters. Clint’s had little Hawkeye symbols and was wearing a sparkly Santa hat. Bucky, true to form, was wearing a Captain America sweater and a headband with reindeer antlers on it. Worst of all, though, in a flagrant misuse of taxpayer dollars, Bucky’s vibranium arm, normally black, was instead striped red and green. Shuri must have flown it in.  It was the most ludicrous thing Sam had ever seen.

“In the living room,” Bucky said.

“Not my goddamn living room,” Sam tried to object, to no avail, given that Bucky and Clint were now bringing the tree into his goddamn living room. “Barnes --”

“Where else are we supposed to put it?”

“ _Your_ living room.”

“Too small,” Bucky said easily.

“That was _your choice,”_ Sam said, because Bucky and Steve had decided they didn’t need a lot of space, probably because all they needed was each other or something equally as disgusting, and Sam had thought that made sense. They were both fairly minimalist people. What Sam hadn’t realized was, why would they need anything more than a two bedroom with short ceilings when they could just use Sam’s house like an extension of their own?

 _Join the Avengers_ , Steve had said. _It’ll be fun_ , Steve had said. _My boyfriend will be setting up a ten foot tall Christmas tree in your living room because our ceilings aren’t high enough_ , Steve had conveniently not said.

“I wouldn’t argue, Sammy,” Clint said. Every time Sam tried to threaten Clint with bodily harm for calling him that, Clint just turned off his hearing aids. “I heard this dude was once a deadly assassin.”

“Oh yeah? Well I heard this dude once shot a grape off of a coke can from 500 feet away.”

“And I heard this guy --”

Sam fought the urge to bash his head against the wall.

* * *

@officialCapAmerica: _Just picked up my Christmas tree and wanted to remind everyone that above all, the holiday season is a time for love and kindness. There is nothing inherently American about Christmas. What is American is respecting this amazing country for its diversity. Happy Holidays._

“Oh, Jesus,” Clint said, staring at his phone. “Who let Cap tweet again?”

Bucky and Sam both immediately got their phones out. Steve had tweeted eleven minutes ago. It had 30k likes, 17k retweets, and a whole lot of replies. But that wasn’t what got Sam’s attention.

“Hang on,” he said. “Did he buy _another tree?”_

Fourteen minutes later saw Captain America himself, walking into Sam’s house with a tree that was somehow even bigger than the one Bucky and Clint had brought slung over his shoulder like it didn’t weigh anything more than a sack of potatoes. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the tree in the corner currently being decorated by Bucky, who was stringing lights, and Clint, who was gluing a topless picture of Steve onto the Christmas angel.

“Where did you get that picture?” Sam asked Clint, who shrugged.

“You’d be amazed what you can find on Google.”

“Hang on,” Steve said. “I thought I was getting the tree.”

“No,” Bucky said patiently, stepping onto a stool to better reach the top. “I said I would get the tree, and you didn’t have to worry about it.”

“I remember you saying that _you_ didn’t want to worry about it and I should get the tree.”

“You both have perfect memories,” Sam said, in the tired voice of a man who was regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. “How did this happen?”

“Steve probably just heard what he wanted to hear, as usual.”

“No, I -- why is there a naked picture of me on top of the tree?”

“You’re our Christmas angel,” Clint said.

“Where did you get that picture?”

Sam was expecting the same answer, but instead Clint said, “Bucky’s phone.”

Steve made a funny little sputtering noise but Bucky just said, “I have much better pictures than that on my phone.” Then he took a closer look at the picture. “Hang on, that’s not Steve.”

“What do you mean that’s not Steve?”

“I mean that’s Steve’s face photoshopped on some guy’s body.”

Clint looked between the picture and Steve. “How do you know?”

“You think I don’t know what Steve looks like naked? The tits aren’t nearly big enough.”

Sam choked on his water. Steve dropped the tree. “Bucky!”

“What?”

Sam put the glass down as calmly as was possible under the circumstances. “Okay. I am putting a moratorium on any and all discussions of Steve’s naked body. For… the rest of my life. It is an infinite moratorium.”

“You can tell when he has his shirt on, too. There’s no hiding them.”

Steve looked like he wished they had never pulled him out of the Arctic.

“Barnes,” Sam said, trying to burn the mental image of Captain America’s tits out of his mind, knowing he would have to face that picture for the rest of his life, every time he closed his eyes. “I will kick you out of this house. This is the worst thing you have ever done to me, and you once kicked me off a plane. No more talk about Steve’s body, and _no more Christmas trees.”_

The doorbell rang. Bucky looked up gleefully. “Maybe it’s Christmas carolers.”

“You are not terrorizing the carolers,” Steve said, in a way that made it apparent he had been saying the same thing for years. “It’s not 1932 anymore. They have rights. They’re… unionized.”

“They are not unionized.”

“They could be unionized.”

“You are so full of shit, Rogers.”

“How do you terrorize carolers?”

Before Clint got his answer, Sam went to get the door. Anything to get him away from the chaos of the living room.

Except when he opened the door, more chaos met him there.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Natasha said, poking her head out from behind _another goddamn Christmas tree._ “Can you help me bring this in.”

“Absolutely not. Take it back. Put it back in the ground. Replant it.”

“You can’t replant a Christmas tree --”

“Nat!” Clint said happily as he came into the front hall. “And another tree!”

“Another what?” Steve stuck his head around the corner. His hair was mussed. Sam had a horrible feeling that as soon as Clint had left Bucky had jumped him. They might not even have waited. There was a reason Sam had had to implement the rule that they weren’t allowed to have sex on any surface Sam might come into contact with, and there was a reason he had his own armchair at their apartment.

“That thing is not coming in here,” he said uselessly as Clint helped Natasha bring the third goddamn tree into Sam’s house. “Where exactly are you planning on putting this one?”

“I once decapitated a man with a stiletto,” Nat said. “I think I can figure out where to put a tree.”

“That’s not even remotely the same skill set!” Sam yelled at her retreating back. He closed the door and slumped against it.

 _Join the Avengers_ , Steve had said. _Save the world_ , Steve had said.

When he got back into the living room Natasha was sitting down, eating cookies and watching as the three men tried to sort out where to put all the Christmas trees.

“What happened to ‘I can figure out where to put a tree?'”

“I can,” Natasha said. “I never said I was going to.”

“Hey, Sam? How fond are you of this lamp?” Bucky was looking at the space in the corner where a floor lamp was. Sam opened his mouth to say that it wasn’t that he was particularly fond of the lamp, it was that they under no circumstances were rearranging his furniture to make room for Christmas trees he hadn’t asked for, when Clint said, “Hang on, I think it’ll fit.”

Before Sam could say _no it absolutely will not_ Clint pushed the tree into the corner, knocking over the lamp Sam may or may not have been fond of, which hit the floor and shattered.

“Well,” Nat said calmly. “That solves that problem.” She took a sip from a glass of wine that she had procured from… somewhere? Sam was nearly positive he didn’t have red wine. He hadn’t seen her bring it in. She had been holding an entire tree. So where the hell did she get it?

He was starting to suspect witchcraft.

“I hate all of you,” he said, as Steve bent to clean up the broken glass and Clint shoved the tree farther into the now- unoccupied corner.

After ten minutes of moving things around and belatedly realizing just how goddamn big Christmas trees were, the five of them found a configuration that more or less worked, assuming Sam never wanted to reach the light switch again.

“You’re all paying my electric bill this month,” Sam said. Clint turned his hearing aids off.

It was only after they had all stood back to admire the forest currently growing in Sam’s living room that Bucky turned to them all and said, “Did anybody bring any lights for the other two trees?”

* * *

Sam had been trying very hard not to make the news, but he had a funny feeling that a good chunk of the Avengers strolling through Walmart picking up Christmas decorations might just do it. It didn’t help that Clint kept adding obnoxious things to their cart, like a 6 foot tall inflatable hugging bear or a corgi wearing a Christmas hat and twerking to ‘Jingle Bells.’ Natasha put most of the things back, but she kept the corgi. The cashier looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be starstruck or amused as they piled a couple of advent calendars, a creepy Santa Claus with dead eyes that Sam _swore_ followed you around, a twerking corgi, and a truly absurd amount of lights onto the conveyor belt.

Two hours and a couple hundred dollars later, they had enough lights to decorate every tree in Central Park, with some left over. Somewhere along the way Steve found a Santa hat and forced it on Sam’s head, and whenever he tried to take it off Steve gave him the ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face. Sam hated that face.

“There,” Bucky said, once they were done. “Doesn’t that look great?”

The problem with Barnes, Sam thought, was that you could never really tell if he was joking.

“It looks like all eight reindeer threw up in my living room.”

Clint made a sound like he was choking. “There were _nine_ reindeer.”

“Wow, Sam, I knew you weren’t a big fan of Christmas but to completely dismiss Rudolph, the most famous reindeer of all? It’s like I don’t even know you,” Bucky said.

“After all he’s done for us. For everybody.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know I’ve said this a couple of times already, but I’m worried you’re not taking it seriously: I literally hate all of you.”

“Oh come on. It’s festive.”

Sam gave Steve a disbelieving look. “That’s because it’s not your living room.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, trying his best to ignore the happy glowing feeling in his chest, a feeling that seemed to be directly related to the star spangled idiot next to him and the assholes gathered around Sam’s _three Christmas trees._ “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Steve laughed and slung his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter at @likeawritngdesk


End file.
